


Making History

by QuillMind



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Other, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9180481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillMind/pseuds/QuillMind
Summary: At the Grand Prix finals, things didn't go as expected for JJ. After all was said and done, there was some talking that he and you needed to do.





	

The Grand Prix had ended.

Hotheaded rising star Yuri Plisetsky took the gold, with sensitive and emotive Yuri Katsuki taking silver. JJ, on the other hand, stayed in the same position as last year, with a bronze medal.

The arena had long since emptied--the tearful athletes and their coaches, the adoring fans, the crew cleaning up after them--all had come and gone, with no other people left inside.

Save for JJ and you.

Most of the lights were off, making the rink look darkened like it would be for an exhibition. The ice had been paved over with a Zamboni, giving it that beautiful, gleaming, pristine surface. JJ always loved going on the ice immediately after it had just been resurfaced, loved flying over that pale blue mirror.

But not after the short program. Not after that performance that had left him with the lowest score of his career.

He had felt like a hole had suddenly opened up beneath his feet and sucked him down. He would try to scream but no words came out, and as he stared up at the disappearing world above, he could make out the other skaters looking down on him, as bright and huge as suns. Invisible hands were trying to smash his skull flat from the sides. His ears didn't seem to work properly, yet they picked up a high-pitched sound that was deafening. There were brief periods where he thought the ground and sky had switched positions.

It wasn't like he was new at this. He had been skating for years. His siblings were in the junior league. His parents were Olympic champions. Hell, this wasn't his first time at the Grand Prix, for fuck's sake! He'd performed that short program perfectly so many times, executed it flawlessly at Skate Canada, and achieved a new personal best at the Rostelecom Cup! He should have had this in the bag! So how could he have fucked up so badly!?

The sound of you and his other fans singing along to the music had boosted his spirits a little, but quickly made him feel worse afterwards. Disappointing not just himself, but everyone who had supported him thus far, talking a big game and then choking like an amateur--it was beyond humiliating.

He had put on a good face when the camera cut to a close-up of him during the posting of his score, but as soon as they had moved on, he couldn't get out of the building fast enough. His parents had tried to talk to him, but he swatted them away, and even you hadn't been able to hold him back as he'd stormed off. You had called and texted him several times, not caring about the roaming fees, and weren't too surprised to get no response. You had a somber dinner with his parents while absently fingering the new engagement ring on your finger, and returned alone to the hotel room you shared with him. Only the night before, the two of you had been laughing and tumbling around on that same bed, overjoyed about what was to come and ready to take on the whole world. It felt like a much longer time had passed since then.

You had gotten under the covers and lay facing away from the door, drifting in and out of sleep. Hours later, the lock had opened and heavy footsteps trudged in. You listened to the sound of clothing being cast off, but never once turned around, letting the body climb into bed and spoon against you. You had considered pretending you were asleep, but then his arm came over your waist, and you took his hand into yours and held it to your heart. He had tensed a little, then relaxed, and you both fell asleep without a word. By the time you had woken up the next morning, he had already left for practice.

You didn't bother trying to text or call him. As much as it stung, you just took a seat and watched, hoping that he could overcome himself.

And he did--and it was wonderful. A rough start, with some flubbed jumps, but a return to form that was impossible to not be moved by. You had ended up using all of your pocket tissues to wipe away your tears and blow your nose.

Hours later, and now JJ stood in the middle of the rink again. Were it not for the fact that he had changed back into his casual clothing, you might have doubted he'd ever taken his skates off at all.

Then, a breath of air that filled his lungs, and he began gliding across the ice.

Initially it was just casual circuits around the rink, warming up, getting a feel for the surface, a few turns and loops. You blinked in surprise as a sudden change in rhythm occurred, and he executed a rapid step sequence before leading into a triple axel. A flying sit spin, then a spread eagle, followed by a quadruple Salchow and triple toe loop combination.

Was this a program? But it wasn't his short or free, or any previous one, as far as you could recall. No, this wasn't a pre-existing program; here and there were blank spots where there would normally be choreography or a spiral. Then this was a new one that he had just created?

The dim lighting of the arena made it so that with the slightest motion, JJ's skate blades shined brilliantly and aggressively, like the diamond on your finger. He was going fast, and putting so much energy into each move, drawing strength from a hidden well and throwing all of it onto the ice.

_A triple lutz, triple toe loop--_

It was a punishing program. Even though it was incomplete, what was already there demanded so much on JJ's body, and this was after he'd already skated the Grand Prix. But when JJ flew into the air, spiting gravity with a quadruple loop, he made it look as easy as bounding on a trampoline.

The mark of a true pro--making the impossibly challenging look effortless.

_Damn it, I'm already out of tissues._

For the second time that day, JJ was panting like his lungs were about to burst, concentrating on holding his finishing pose on the ice. And again, amidst his exhaustion, he was smiling, elated.

You approached the boards, constantly wiping tears away from your face. JJ's eyes met yours, and his face became gentle.

"Didn't like my new program?" he asked jokingly, the ice hissing underneath him as he stopped sharply at the partition.

"Shut up," you muttered with a quivering lower lip. "It was beautiful."

"I just came up with it.  When it's finished, it'll be a hundred times better," JJ promised, though he didn't say it as arrogantly as he normally might have.

"I'll hold you to that."

A serious atmosphere overtook you two. JJ looked apologetic, regretful. "I'm sorry," he uttered. "I skated like shit during my short program, and I pushed you away when you were just trying to be there for me."

"You did." Your eyes wandered to the ice, marked with the paths that JJ skated. Underneath that thin layer with his new program were the tracks and edge marks from both Yuris, Otabek Altin, Christophe Giacometti, Phichit Chulanont, and JJ again. Eventually they would all physically disappear, but in JJ's mind, they were far more resilient.

"I took my own failures out on you."

"That's right. But at least I had someone else to blame for my pain. Yours came from yourself, which is the toughest of all."

He nodded.

You sucked in a deep breath, and folded your arms to steel yourself. "I'm glad you didn't win."

JJ's head snapped up to stare at you in confusion. "What?"

"When you got your short program's score, your fate was already sealed. Would you have really been happy to win only because the others performed badly? No, it would have only been a proper victory if you'd gone against opponents who were all at the top of their game and you still managed to beat them."

You softened considerably. "But you heard the crowd, right? No one else had people chanting your name and singing along. You didn't lose, either."

Slate blue eyes blinked at you momentarily, then smoothed into a smile. A man with a personality and ego like his would not take kindly to pity. Thankfully, you were not the type to coddle someone or tiptoe on eggshells. But you still knew the right things to say. It was one of the reasons JJ loved you. "You're really amazing, you know that?"

"So I'm told."

"By who?"

"A _lot_ of people," you said slyly, "but it only matters when it comes from you."

You both reached for each other and held on for a tight embrace. It almost hurt, but the strength behind it was reassuring, so you liked it.

"You're a tough woman."

"Weak ones don't get to be Queens," you hummed.

He chuckled. "You sure you don't want to try skating? I think you have the guts for it."

You rolled your eyes as you pushed away from him. "We already tried that on our first date, remember? I got such a bruise on my butt, it looked like I spilled wine on it."

"I never got to see that," he pointed out. "We didn't have sex until... what, the third date?"

Colour darkened your cheeks as you scoffed and balled your fists. "The _second_ date," you said, knowing full well that he knew the answer. You were priming yourself for the next smug remark, but it never came. Instead, you left the ground like you had been catapulted, and found yourself floating above the ice.

A shriek would have erupted from your mouth if it weren't for all of your efforts going into trying to steady yourself and not thrash around while JJ held you up in a waist lift. Despite having never done pair skating before, there was no doubt or clumsiness in the way he eased you back down, and even as he himself sank to lay on his back, he kept your body supported so that you floated onto his lap like a feather. It happened so fast and so flawlessly that any anger you might have had ready instantly evaporated, and you giggled.

"I love you," he said with a voice filled with affection.

"I love you too," you murmured. "I'm proud of you. I know you'll make it here again next season, and you'll get the gold."

"You got that right. But man, it's gonna be tough to try and pull off a quad axel next year," he said with theatrical concern.

"A _quad axel?_ " you blurted out. "You're serious?" Quad jumps had become expected of pro skaters over the years, but that didn't make them any less stressful on the body or the skaters' minds. The bar may have continued to rise, yet the technology and equipment involved with the sport remained the same. Just as in dancing, figure skating stressed elegance and grace, but could be murderous on the body of the performer; the damage that some suffered was comparable to what hockey players went through, and when skaters landed a jump, the force that had to be supported by their foot and ankle was about ten times their body weight. Last hip and spinal injuries were not unheard of, and though spectators focused on those precious three to four minutes during a competition, they never saw the hundreds if not thousands of the same jumps being done in practice, where there could be muscle pulls, wrist fractures, and concussions, to name a few.

JJ put one hand behind his head and gave a cocky smirk. "This season showed a lot of strong competition, so I have to step it up for the gold next year. Not to mention, it'd make a comeback that much more exciting if I do a real show-stopper!"

_Ah, there he is again, there's the JJ that I love. Brash and confident and a total nut about skating._

You remembered that JJ was fully aware of the risks. His whole family skated, so he knew all about the health hazard of being a pro athlete. But his parents had never forced him to do this; and yes, he bathed in the glory, but that was only second to the real reason he stuck with skating: he just loved doing it.

"Yuri Plisetsky has flexibility, but he's inexperienced and can be pretty stiff with his expression," you said thoughtfully. "Yuri Katsuki's rather fragile without his coach, who's supposedly coming back, but Viktor's bound to be rusty after taking a year off. But _you_ , Jean-Jacques Leroy--you're able to get the power and height that quad jumps require. If anyone's going to manage a quad axel, it'd be you."

"Exactly!" JJ cried, snaring his arms around your back and pulling you back down, "Who better to make skating history than the King!" He puffed his chest and squeezed his grip on you. "Next year's going to be really busy. Tons of training, planning a wedding..."

"Wait, what?"

He made an amused face, like he was explaining a complicated new concept to a child. "Wedding, honey. They're these things where two people dress up and swear to love each other until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, and the Canucks win the Stanley Cup."

"Um, but you did say that..." You trailed off, feeling uncomfortable about the rest of that sentence.

A cavalier shrug. "Yeah, I know I said we'd do it once I won the gold, but hey, a plan's just a plan." He reached up to cup your cheek. "I don't want to wait a year. I want to marry you."

"Looking for something dumb to do?" you asked sheepishly.

JJ laughed at the song reference. He knew it was your habit to crack jokes when you were at a loss for words. For all your strength, you did have a seriously mushy interior.

"Nah, this would be the smartest thing I ever did," he said sincerely. "Well? What do you say?"

You meant to sigh in exasperation at this guy, this incorrigible, arrogant, boastful guy, but all that came out was a laugh that was inches away from Jenga-tower-collapsing into a sob.

"I mean," you said, holding up your hand, "I'm already wearing the ring, right?"

Again you were yanked back down for a kiss, but this time it lasted for far longer, as the more you held each other and uttered promises of love, the stronger and bigger and happier you both felt. It got to the point where the rink had some vigorous activity happen on it that had nothing to do with skating, and a few months later in the most recent issue of _Cosmopolitan_ , they had updated their featured list of sex positions--most notably with a brand new submission that was called "JJ Style."

In the following year at the Grand Prix finals, Yuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov were not the only skaters to be sporting gold rings on their fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh, YOI was great, and although I was happy for everyone, I still wish things hadn't gone down for JJ the way they did. ლ(ಥ Д ಥ )ლ. Anyway, figured there was room for some post-competition comfort. 
> 
> Quad axels have yet to be done and ratified in the world, so I wouldn't be surprised if that's something they tackle in season 2.


End file.
